White Needs Black
by Poisonous Picasso
Summary: After Mello dies, Near sees no reason to continue living. So he doesn't. Here are his final thoughts on the fiery subject forever preoccupying his mind.


**Today, I was innocently watching rain fall, since I'm emo like that and have no life. I'm kidding, I'm not really emo, nor do I have the desire to be. But anyway, suddenly, inspiration hit like a lightning strike. It was a wondrous experience. If anyone is having writer's block, you should totally watch something in nature. It really helps. _Anyway, _I am done ranting here we go!**

**White Needs Black**

**Near's Point of View in a suicide note way. And a bit of Geovanni in the end**

**By: Picasso 6/13/10**

_December 13, 2013_

_Dear Giovanni_

_When Mello died, I became empty._

_Well, emptier would actually be the correct word. After all, I've always been an empty child, growing up with nothing to grasp onto and hold. Except Mello, with his lightning eyes, and malicious personality. _

_So when he died, the softening enamel around my shell instantaneously hardened, and I began, once again living a passionless existence. A life with no meaning, spotted with boredom and pain. _

_I know he hated me, I know I hated him. But, I also know, that I was the last thing on his mind when he died. I know that he wanted so badly to beat me, but he also knew he was going to die. He had been on a suicide mission. _

_Because he couldn't deal with it. _

_He couldn't stand the mixed emotions that jarred and whirled within him. He couldn't accept it._

_When he first told me, on his last visit, that he was going to make a move toward catching Kira, I knew. I could see it dancing behind those insane, electric eyes. He had given up. He was done trying, in a way, he was admitting defeat, bowing out of the way and allowing me to take it over._

_In a way, he beat me, though. And I think he also knew that. I believe he knew that I had come to lean on him, I had begun to trust him, to tell him what I was feeling. This was his last war cry, his last bravado before he played the soldier, and died to protect his country, his species. _

_He knew I would barely hang on without him. _

_When he told me, I didn't think I'd mind. I knew he was going to die just as much as he did. I just accepted it, never have I been bothered by such small things as death. It's just a fact of life, whatever is born will die, and there's no way to stop it. _

_But then, just for his last call, his last, manipulative move. He stopped at the door, looking at me over his shoulder with a catlike smirk gracing his beautiful, angular face._

"_I love you, Nathaniel." He said, before leaving the room, hips swinging, chocolate bar in hand. At that moment, my world seemed to crash down around me like the millions of dice towers I'd created in the past. I felt the urge to run to the elevator, and catch up with him. I wanted to stop him._

_I wonder if I could have. I've wondered that every day since the moment he confessed his love. _

_It couldn't have been more than three hours later that I received the news of his death. A protective numbness washed over me, shielding me from the shock that would hurt me. I was almost completely numb, except for the dull ache that circulated in my chest, throbbing with every beat of my heart._

_That night, I cried. _

_But I cried over stupid things._

_I cried over the fact that I had nobody, when in reality, I had the whole SPK waiting on me hoof and paw. _

_Then I cried over how Mello had nobody, when he had Matt, lurking in every corner, waiting to pounce out at his beck and call. _

_I knew I'd miss him. I knew I'd miss our long talks, our contradicting ways of finding and catching Kira. I'd miss the manipulation, the mind games that we played, the challenges and tests we threw at one another. _

_I knew I'd miss the scent of chocolate, leather, and insanity. I'd miss the sound of platform boots against the steal floor, and the slight, swishing sound leather made as he moved. I'd miss the scar on his face, and his angular jaw line. I'd miss the cutting, electrifying blue eyes that always seemed to strip me down and make me his. _

_I'd miss the chocolate-flavored kisses that no one knew about. His warm, uncovered hand holding mine, the feel of his lips caressing my skin. The phone would never again ring at midnight, and I'd never have the sick feeling of security when a motorcycle roared past the headquarters at bizarre hours._

_I'd never hear his voice rise and fall as he told me stories of his mafia life. I'd never hear him whisper my name-my real name, not the stupid alias-drenching it in passion and love. _

_I'd never hear him tell me he loved me again. _

_These were the things I cried over that night. But, I made a promise to myself, I promised myself that night, that I would catch Kira and avenge his death. He died knowing that Kira was still out there, he died knowing several important things that I'll never know._

_But he helped me connect Takada to the second L. Light Yagami, I knew, was Kira._

_And that's why he's dead now. I know that L and Mello, and maybe even Matt, where ever they are, are positively overflowing with pride. I'm writing this to let you know one thing, yes, I can't do this anymore. I've tried._

_But life's no fun without a bit of fire. I need that fire, Giovanni. You know me best, you've seen the changes that have occurred within me, and even you are smart enough to know that they are not good. I'm sorry the writing's becoming so shaky, the drugs are starting to take effect. I'm going to mail this letter, now._

_By the time you get this, I'll be dead. You'll find me at the graveyard. You know which one, and after reading this, you probably know which grave you'll find me by. _

_Goodbye, my friend, I hope you understand that I am no longer depressed. I'm happy, I'm excited to be seeing him again. Good luck. _

_Best Regards,_

_Nathaniel River_

…...

Giovanni solemnly refolded the letter and placed it back into his breast pocket, then stared up at the sign that marked the entrance to the cemetery. Did he dare enter? He was afraid of what he'd find. Slowly, he took a step, shuddering as the snow crunched beneath his feet.

He expertly wandered the paths he'd followed with Near countless times. Stopping few yards away from the grave. Ne knew Near would be there. He closed his eyes, envisioning the grave made of shining black granite. Right next to another, identical to it.

Cautiously, he approached the graves that marked where too, soon three, prodigies lie. He almost gagged as the stench hit him, by now, Near had been dead about three days, he glanced up, meeting the glazed over, partially rolled-back eyes of the frail albino boy.

Giovanni approached, noticing that Near was clasping a chocolate bar tightly in his tiny fist. Even in death, he gripped it tightly.

What the detective saw near the boy's body almost gave him a hear attack. Around him, cutting deeply into the crisp snow were footprints. But they weren't Near's.

Actually, they looked suspiciously like...

...platform boots.

**End**


End file.
